NEW BEGINNINGS

Neil Barlow

I reach around Sadie’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring hug as her parents pull up on the kerb.
        ‘Here we go,’ I smile.
        She squeezes my waist, playfully.
        ‘Wow!’ Sadie’s mother jogs up the driveway.
        We share an embrace. Her father shakes hands.
        We guide her parents into the lounge, a coffee table I’d transported from the flat in the centre, a bottle of champagne, four flutes.
        I pop the cork and pour.
        ‘Not for me,’ Sadie comments, waving a half-full bottle of water. ‘Still on medication for another week.’
        Her mother smiles. 
        Clinking crystal against the plastic bottle, ‘Cheers!’
        ‘When did you get the keys?’ her father queries.
        ‘Two,’ checking her phone, ‘two and a half hours ago,’ grinning proudly. ‘You’re our first house guests.’
        Guiding them through the ground floor of our new-build detached home, Sadie’s enthusiasm is infectious. The fitted kitchen the highlight. The dining room’s patio doors showcasing a rear garden, two tier, fences hidden behind evergreens. 
        They follow Sadie upstairs, showering approval with every step, to the en-suite bathroom with his-and-hers sinks. Sadie’s favourite room. Lagging behind, I listen to her well-rehearsed spiel, explaining our plans for each room.
        ‘The one thing we’re not sure about,’ Sadie ponders, ‘is where to set up my art studio. We could use the second bedroom as it has better light, but that means the guest room would be too small,’ pointing and referring to the back bedroom.
        ‘Let’s see,’ her mother smiles, easing past Sadie, who steps aside, allowing her parents to pass, taking my hand.
        Her mother screams. Her father, silent.
        Stepping into the cramped room, her parents stare at us, open-mouthed, stunned. Her mother’s fingers interlocked over her mouth, eyes bugging. Shaking. Her father picks Sadie up, heedless of his bad back, spins her in circles, whooping with joy.
        ‘Easy, Dad!’ she laughs. 
        Hugging her mother, accepting her congratulations, tears of joy soaking her face. ‘I’m proud of you,’ she beams.
        Sadie and I stand beside the message on the propped-up whiteboard I’ve borrowed from school, under the window, proclaiming the legend: NURSERY – COMING IN 2025!